


August

by glowingatmosphere



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Demisexuality, Depression, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28714263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowingatmosphere/pseuds/glowingatmosphere
Summary: When Dan returns home and meets up with his childhood friend Phil after they’ve finished their first year of uni, he notices that things between them are different. As they rekindle their friendship, Dan completely immerses himself in the new feelings that he’s developing for his best friend. But when Phil starts talking about another boy, Dan begins to wonder whether Phil was ever really his.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 17
Kudos: 47





	August

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! A couple of notes about the tags: there's references as well as descriptions of depression, and references to self-harm urges, so please be cautious. If you have specific questions about the content you can always ask/message [me](https://glowingatmosphere.tumblr.com/). Having said that, I really loved writing this fic and I hope you enjoy reading : )

The door swings open.

“Dan,” his mum says for what must be the third time. Dan keeps falling asleep every time she leaves, and he’s not sure how many times he’s drifted already. “Get up, love, it’s noon. Come on, you’ve slept enough.”

Dan makes a displeased noise, pulling the thin blanket up to his chin.

“Come on,” she says again and Dan feels her hand on his arm, shaking him softly over the blanket. “I don’t want you staying up all night again because you can’t sleep.”

Her hand is gone, and Dan thinks he’s safe to continue sleeping, but her voice comes in again, more assertive this time. “I won’t say it again.”

Dan finally opens his eyes. He feels more tired than he did when he finally managed to fall asleep last night, but he can’t stay in bed as long as he wants, not now that he has someone to answer to.

“He rises,” his mum says when he finally walks downstairs, eyelids still heavy even after he splashed his face with cold water. She’s on the sofa reading her book. “But still in pyjamas.”

Dan can’t wait until Monday when she goes back to work. He’ll have to endure one more morning of being woken up for no reason until then. He shrugs. “What’s the point, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

She stares at him. “There’s lots of places you could be. Like coming to the store with me this morning, thank you for waking up on time to help me, by the way.”

Dan can’t argue that. He did promise to go with her, but felt too sick the first time he was woken up. “Sorry,” is all he can offer.

She shakes her head and turns to her book. “Go eat something, I tried to get you what I think you like but you weren’t there, so.”

He knows that her irritation is mostly due to her long shifts, and it gets worse with her lack of consistent sleep, but he still hates it when she gets like that. He hurries to the kitchen before she finds something else to make him feel bad about.

“Are you meeting up with Phil later?” she asks when Dan passes her by on his way to his room with a bowl of cereal in his hands.

“What?” He comes to a halt at the first step on the stairs and the milk swings close to the edge touching his thumb.

“I met Kathryn at the store. With Phil,” she emphasises. “He got back yesterday evening, and he was up this morning actually helping his mum.”

Dan can’t feel anything apart from how wet his thumb is. Then a strange mix of embarrassment and discomfort make themselves present at finding out this information not from the person he was supposed to. “Oh yeah,” he says, trying not to give it away. “I guess he’s busy today.”

“I’m sure he is, Kathryn won’t let him out of her sight after all those months of him being away. But she said to tell you to go visit today, apparently she hasn’t seen you since you’ve been back.”

“Well,” Dan starts not knowing how to continue. His cereal is getting soggy, and the milk is still sitting on his thumb.

“I think you should go,” she decides for him. “Phil can’t be that busy. Even if he can’t hang out, it’s better to go do something than stay here all day playing on your computer.”

-

Nervous energy swirls in his stomach as he stands a safe distance from Phil’s house. He considered walking because it would help him procrastinate, but taking his bike would help him escape faster if he needs to, and that thought won out in the end. He pushes off the ground and glides into the house’s front yard. It looks the same as the last time he passed by, but the flower beds are fully bloomed and the soil’s no longer covered in snow. And Phil is inside.

It’s not that he thinks Phil hates him. But he’s not sure Phil wants to see him or even cares about him anymore. He doesn’t know what to expect, and he’s afraid to walk inside and find out how much things have really changed.

He drops the bike onto the grass. His hands are shaking a little, and he’s suddenly aware of how long his limbs are, like when he’s walking in public and all eyes remind him that he has a physical form but he doesn’t know what to do with it. But there’s no one around. He takes a second before he decides to make a run for it.

“Daniel?”

He freezes crouched over his bike. He removes his hands from the handlebars and straightens up.

“Hi Kathryn,” he says and gives her a tentative smile.

“Oh my lord, look at you,” she marvels from the front door. She beckons him closer. “Come in, did your mum tell you I saw her this morning? She said you’ve been home for a week?”

“Yeah, about,” he admits as she closes the door behind him.

“And you’ve just now come to say hi? I have to say, I’m a little hurt. We’re in the kitchen,” she continues, not waiting for him to answer.

“Yeah, um, sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

“I’m teasing you, sweetie.” She smiles, and her eyes sparkle with warmth.

Dan hasn’t been in this house since last summer. He has a strange feeling of being home and his nervousness being wrung from inside him. They enter the kitchen, and most of it comes back and assaults him. Phil is over the sink washing vegetables and looks up when Dan and his mum come in. His eyes widen, just a bit, but his face goes to normal so fast it would be easy to miss it if Dan wasn’t hyperaware of Phil’s microexpressions.

“I’m sorry to put you immediately to work, but I got distracted and I’m running behind on dinner. You’re staying, right? Can you chop those vegetables, please? Thank you, sweetie.”

Dan finds himself near Phil, close enough that they would have to move away for another person to come between them.

“Hey,” Phil says casually.

“Hey,” Dan says, matching his tone, and grabs the knife before he meets Phil’s eyes. He looks the same. He sounds the same. But he feels different. Dan finds himself shaking a bit and doesn’t trust himself not to cut any of his fingers.

“Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Me neither. My mum wanted me out of the house really bad, so. I’m here, I guess.”

“Oh.”

Dan can’t read his tone. They fall silent, and his attention gets absorbed by the interrupted sound of water running over vegetables and the rhythmic tap of the knife on the cutting board.

“You’re awfully quiet, boys,” Kathryn says, and Dan startles. The knife slips and the flat side touches his index finger. So close.

“Why don’t you go upstairs? I can finish here.”

-

Dan can’t shake the weird feeling of being surrounded by familiar walls and furniture and a boy he’s known all his life who feels so distant right now. He doesn’t like it. They make idle talk about university and what they’ve been up to since they saw each other last summer, but they stay on the surface of every topic. Dan knows most of what Phil tells him. They called and texted constantly during the first semester, but their communication petered out somewhat by the end. It was so gradual that Dan didn’t pay it mind. He hoped that seeing each other again would bring things back to normal. But Phil didn’t come home over the winter break.

Dan sits stiffly and uncomfortably on the desk chair while Phil sits on his bed, his back against the wall and his feet planted on the mattress. He’s typing away on his phone, and Dan pretends to do something on his phone too because he feels awkward just sitting there and staring at Phil. He peeks over his screen and notices the Buffy box set on the floor.

“You already started a Buffy marathon?” He says amusedly.

“Huh?” Phil looks away from his phone at Dan and then follows Dan’s foot where it’s pointing. “Oh,” he smiles and sits up. “Don’t judge me, I couldn’t bring it with me and I missed it.”

“Thank God, your housemates didn’t have to suffer through your obsession.”

Phil makes a dismissive face. “Oh, don’t pretend you’re above it. You love this show.”

“I hate it.”

“You cried watching it,” Phil insists.

“I cried because I hate so much,” Dan says stubbornly. “I’ll never forgive them for killing off Tara. Or for putting her on the main credits on the episode that she dies,” he rushes to say as Phil’s mouth opens to reply. “That’s fucked up, man.”

“Yeah, I know, I didn’t like that either, but I’m not going to hate the entire show for it.”

“I will. And I am.”

Phil snorts. “Gosh, Dan. I know. We can watch before that episode and then I’ll continue by myself.”

“We? I’m not watching,” he says.

Phil rolls his eyes fondly, and Dan’s chest feels tingly. There’s a familiar boy in this familiar room again and the long months of silence between them seem like they vanished into the void of time.

-

He rides back home during sunset, and he pedals faster than needed, speeding as he tries to catch up to the beat of his heart. He wants to scream from the joy bouncing around his body. He doesn’t remember feeling this euphoric in months, and he wants to get addicted to that feeling, even if it feels unbearably overwhelming. He prefers it to the long nights that never seem to end when he lies still in bed. Tonight things feel light and easy, and he’s sure he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

-

Phil is in the backyard with his dad the next morning Dan rides to his house. Since their friendship has been remedied, he thinks it’s okay to go back so soon. Phil’s mum lets him in, and he walks through the house to the backdoor. His dad seems to be building some kind of wooden thing. Dan has no idea what Phil’s dad’s projects are and apparently neither does Phil because he’s just standing there next to the toolbox. He lights up when Dan walks out into the yard. Dan doesn’t take many steps before Phil grabs his arm and leads him back towards the door.

“Dan’s here, Dad, have to go.”

He mumbles an “Okay” that’s barely audible as Phil herds Dan inside the house.

“You have to keep showing up randomly and saving me,” Phil says as they enter the living room. “They’ve both put me to work since the day I came back. I just want to eat and sleep and chill, but they won’t leave me alone.”

“It didn’t look like you were doing anything.”

“Shut up,” Phil says quickly, but softly.

“I heard that,” his mum suddenly appears from the kitchen door.

They both startle.

“Mum!”

“Don’t talk like that to your friend, I raised you better than that.”

“Mum, stop eavesdropping.”

“It’s not my fault if you’re not being careful,” she laughs. “Where are you going?”

“My room?” Phil says, pausing on the stairs.

“No, you’re not. Why don’t you go outside? It’s lovely today.”

“And do what?” Phil rolls his eyes softly. “Have a picnic by the river?”

-

“Why do I talk back to her?” Phil says, sandwiches packed in a fabric bag that hangs from the handlebar on his bike. “It only gives her ideas.”

“She’s way smarter than you,” Dan agrees and laughs as he rides behind Phil.

They decide to bike to the river as they usually did when they were trying to avoid other kids playing around in the neighbourhood or when they were bored of biking on dusty roads through open fields. His dad brought Phil’s bike out of the shed, tires deflated after months of unuse, and filled them with air after Phil stubbornly tried to do it by himself and dropped the pump a hundred times.

They ride on the narrow path running along the river for a while, at many points having to line one behind the other. Most of the river is inaccessible due to the slight decline that leads to the water and the thick greenery growing along its bank, including the slippery soil and big tree roots that disappear into the water.

It’s a wonderful hiking spot for those who know of it, and there is one particular spot that’s good for swimming. It’s surrounded by moderately tall rocks that people can dive from, and, when he’s in the water, Dan thinks they give off a secluded feeling that makes him feel protected. Locals don’t visit that often, but they get a few out-of-town visitors year-round who are here mostly to hike and take photos. 

The grassy path widens as the trees and shrubbery part, and Dan pedals faster and slips beside his friend.

“I can’t believe she made her own kid come out in the sun,” Phil complains. “I’m going to burn.”

Dan looks at Phil’s pale arms below his blue t-shirt sleeves. He’s been getting carelessly sunburned every summer since they were little kids and he could sneak away from his mum’s watchful eye.

“You’re fine,” he dismisses with a sigh, used to Phil’s complaining. “We’ll find shade.”

“Oh, can we go to that tree with the swing? By the river? I wonder if it’s still there.”

“Why wouldn’t it? The world didn’t burn while we were away.”

“I don’t know, Dan, remember the kids that used to play around here? Remember what they did to the playground? They’re pretty vicious. I wouldn’t be surprised if they burned down the tree.”

“Yeah,” says Dan as he remembers why they didn’t hang out with other kids that much.

“That’s why you were my only friend, they would have used me for kindle.”

“I thought we were friends because you liked me,” Dan pouts.

“That too,” says Phil and raises one hand from the handle to gesture, which is a big mistake as the front wheel wobbles and turns to the left, and Phil almost crashes into Dan.

“Jesus Christ!” Dan yells, his life flashing before his eyes before he hits the breaks and puts his feet down to stop his bike. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” says Phil, miraculously still standing up. ”I guess when they say that you never forget how to ride a bike they don’t mean me.”

Dan rolls his eyes and wills his heart to calm down inside his chest.

They arrive at the place where they can safely reach the water. There’s an opening in the wild vegetation, and the land is flat enough so they don’t slip down and fall in.

“Dan, it’s still there!” Phil says and drops his bike.

Several years ago, someone made a simple swing out of wooden planks and rope, and it’s still hanging from the same tree branch to this day. It’s wide enough to fit them both snuggly when they were little, but now only one of them can sit on it. Phil immediately plops down and grips the ropes on either side.

“Push me,” he demands right as Dan approaches.

“Push you?” Dan says with pretend indignation. “Push yourself.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You got a big brain, I’m sure you can think of something.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll clone myself then.”

“And have two of you crash into my bike from both sides? I’ll die.”

“Who says I’ll be hanging out with you, my clone will be my best friend.”

“Then you’ll kill each other.”

“At least he’ll push my swing like friends are supposed to do.”

“Ugh, fine,” Dan says and walks behind Phil. He puts his hands right over Phil’s and leans close to his ear. “If you say please.”

“Oh my god,” he sighs and Dan is certain he’s rolling his eyes. “Please, daddy, push me.”

“Oh god, no! Get the fuck out of here,” says Dan, pretending to be appalled, and gives Phil a hard push on the shoulders sending him foward. “Too much. If you say that again, I’ll push you off.”

Phil giggles, clearly pleased with himself.

They eat their lunch in the shade on the grass, which feels uncomfortable because the soil is uneven, but Dan doesn’t mind. His heart feels comfortable inside his chest and it feels too nice to notice any physical inconvenience. The sun feels warm, the shade cool, and the white noise of the water calms something inside him that he didn’t even know was unsettled. Phil’s presence and the reassuring feeling that nothing has changed soothes him.

Phil nods in the direction of the river. “Let’s go in.”

“What, right now?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Dan gives him a look. “Cause we don’t have anything to swim in?”

Phil shrugs. “So?”

Dan huffs. “Just because you’re an exhibitionist doesn’t mean everyone else is.”

Phil laughs. “I don’t know about you, but I remembered to put underwear on this morning. Come on,” he says, and he’s already taking off his t-shirt.

“Oh God, Phil,” Dan says, but he gets up and follows his lead. “Fine, but if I drown from all the food I just consumed please don’t let them find me in my boxers.”

“I’ll take care of your body, don’t worry,” Phil reassures him.

“That sounds like you’re going to bury me. Or let the river take me.”

The water is unsurprisingly cold, but it still startles him as it bites his feet. It will get better later in the summer, but it’s bearable for now. He knows the more he prolongs it the worse it is. He just needs to dive and submerge himself. Phil tries to push him in and almost gets elbowed in the ribs as soon as Dan feels his hands on his back.

Phil laughs, but doesn’t give up. He chases Dan around and tries to tickle him, which encourages Dan to just go for it and dive in just to escape from Phil’s merciless teasing. He surfaces with a gasp, shivering at the cold that’s enveloping him. Phil is already in the water, preoccupied with pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.

Dan smirks and goes underwater before Phil has a chance to open his eyes and spot him. It’s clear enough to see Phil’s long, pale legs, so he grabs his ankle. Phil immediately kicks his leg, but the water slows down his movement, and he doesn’t manage to get rid of him. A few bubbles escape from Dan’s mouth as he smiles, and he lets go.

“Dan!” Phil yells when Dan’s head appears again. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Phil lunges towards him, and Dan’s laugh turns into a shriek as Phil’s arms wrap around him. He manages to break free when he shrieks too close to Phil’s ear and Phil lets go and puts his hand over his ear. Dan has only a second to feel bad before Phil lunges again, clearly looking for revenge.

They swim for a while and splash around, their voices bouncing off the rocks around them and echoing. They’re both tall enough that their feet lie flat on the bottom of the river and the water reaches up to their mouths. There are shallower parts where they used to swim when they were kids, and, even as they grew taller, they used to go there when they wanted to just sit around in the water and chat.

Dan’s properly shivering now and, by the looks of it, so is Phil. The sun is still high in the sky and the shade where they left their things has moved, so they sit in the same spot in the sun to dry off a bit. Dan feels so tired and warm that he almost starts to drift sitting up, when he hears the sound of a text. It’s not his phone, so at first he ignores it. He glances in Phil’s direction. He’s smiling down at his phone while texting.

Curiosity gets the best of him. “Who’s that?”

“Hm?” Phil says without looking up.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Oh, just someone. From uni,” he clarifies.

Dan would usually not inquire further, but Phil is being suspiciously vague. He wants to know who this someone is. A classmate, a friend? He hasn’t properly talked to Phil in several months, so he has no idea who his friends are or anything else related to his life since they practically stopped talking. He’s very curious and is itching to ask, but the thought of Phil having friends who are not him makes him feel so jealous that just admitting it to himself feels intolerably awful.

“A friend?” he insists nonetheless.

“Uh,” Phil says distractedly, finally looking up from his phone. “Yeah, I guess.”

Dan’s insides constrict, and he hates the sensation. He wants to ask more and get to the bottom of it, he wants Phil to answer all of his questions with clarity so Dan doesn’t have to wonder and suffer.

But Phil puts his phone back in the pocket of his jeans and moves to put them on.

Unlike yesterday, when he left Phil’s house, Dan doesn’t feel elated during this ride back home. His chest feels full of emptiness. It gnaws at him and makes him wince and he doesn’t know how to soothe it or expel it from his body.

-

If there’s one thing that Phil is excellent at, it’s making Dan forget how bad he feels. Going to bed is the most difficult time of day, especially when his mum works a night shift and he’s home all alone. It’s too quiet, and the white noise of indiscernible voices coming from his laptop is not doing much to keep him company. His eyelids are heavy, more from zoning out and staring into the dim darkness of his room than from sleepiness.

When he gets a text, it takes him perhaps an entire minute to process and actually look at it. It’s a photo of the shelves Phil’s dad was building a couple of days ago, beautifully painted and laid on the table to dry, according to Phil’s caption.

_He spent all day on them  
And guess what he made me help him again_

_im sure u were great help_

_Hey  
I brought him water and gave him inspiration_

Dan can tell that Phil chose the colours by the different shades of blue and green on the wavy design and flowery patterns. They chat about nothing, mostly Dan teasing Phil about his building skills and him acting insulted until Dan feels too tired to stare at his phone.

-

There’s not much time to feel lonely when Phil is determined to not let him spend any time alone. He’s been woken up by Phil bursting into his room whenever he’s slept in, sometimes meeting Dan’s mum at the front door as she was coming back from work. She’s pleased that ‘someone is capable of making Dan actually leave his bed,’ and Dan doesn’t do more than just roll his eyes because—he feels like himself again.

Slowly but steadily, being home finally starts to feel like it used to, as comforting and familiar as Dan remembered it to be before he and Phil separated in August to go to different universities. He doesn’t want to think about how all the fears he started having about them drifting apart when the calls and texts vanished into silence came true. Phil is here, and Dan doesn’t have to think about it.

-

“I swear they keep me here just to do all the chores,” Phil complains as he and Dan take the dirty dishes from the dinner table to the kitchen.

Dan shakes his head with a fond smile. “Shut up, you are literally the most spoiled person I know.”

Dan’s mum is saying goodbye to Phil’s parents near the front door and thanking them for inviting her and Dan for dinner. It’s late evening when she leaves, but he decides to stay the night, Phil’s parents insisting that they’re happy to have him stay over again, just like when they were kids. Phil also threatens to go to his house again and wake him up early in the morning if he doesn’t stay.

They all move to the porch since the temperature has dropped a bit, and the air feels light and sweet. Phil’s parents ask him more questions about school and how he’s handling living in a big city, and Dan answers politely, swallowing down his displeasure and discomfort with the topic. Phil’s mum makes a harmless joke about them surviving without each other and Dan thinks about his empty student bedroom and crowded classrooms. His brain gets stuck on _surviving_. Phil isn’t looking at him when he searches his face for a reaction.

Phil’s parents eventually go inside to get ready for bed. They’re left outside by themselves, and Dan breathes through another good memory. They weren’t always allowed to stay up this late, but they liked lounging on the porch furniture and listening to music or eating snacks until their parents remembered they were supposed to be in bed.

They reminisce about a time when they were bored and were opening every cupboard they could find in Phil’s house just to see what treasure they could discover and found an unopened bottle of wine. They drank straight from the bottle, and it tasted awful to their 14-year-old tastebuds. Phil was so nervous about getting in trouble that he emptied the bottle down the sink, and Dan had the brilliant idea to throw it in the bin and take out the trash. If his parents ever wondered where that bottle went, they didn’t ask Phil.

But it seems he got too confident from the experience of getting away with it because he convinces Dan to have a drink, certain his parents wouldn’t mind since ‘they’re adults now.’

“Be back,” he says and disappears into the house. When he comes out again, he has an unopened bottle and two wine glasses in his hands. Dan almost springs up out of his seat to prevent an accident from happening, but Phil completes the mission successfully.

“You forgot your bowtie and tophat,” Dan teases, watching Phil open the bottle and pour into one of the glasses.

“Shut up, we’re adults now,” he repeats, handing the glass to Dan, who tries to hide his smile. “Grown ups drink from fancy glasses.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Right, what am I saying. Let me get you your sippy cup, baby,” he says and pretends to head back inside.

“Oh fuck off.” Dan rolls his eyes, the word _baby_ making his stomach jump a little. “Come back and sit down.”

Dan doesn’t really love the taste, but it’s one of those things that he feels compelled to keep trying because he can’t make up his mind about whether he likes it or not. After the second glass he doesn’t care that much. His conversation with Phil is too engaging, and he mostly cares about wetting his dry mouth between ranting about the moral message of his favourite show and arguing why Phil is wrong.

They’re down to the last drops, and Dan is either getting used to the taste or he feels too good to care anymore. His entire body feels so comfortable nestled in the big cushions of his armchair that he falls silent and still, moving only to take occasional sips. His glass rests on his belly and his fingers play with it, his nails tap on the surface with muted clinks, his fingertips feel the slippery texture. He can hear a few crickets and the slightest of breezes rustling leaves on trees. He’s lost in a world of smooth sound and physical sensation.

And Phil is part of it. He doesn’t need to look over to make sure. He’s there, choosing to spend his time with Dan like he’s done all their lives. When his brain supplies the question, he can’t—and doesn’t want to—stop himself from asking. “Phil?”

Phil hums, and the noise sounds like it’s coming from inside the glass he’s raised to his lips.

“Why did we stop talking?”

It’s weird how this question gives his tummy a little pinch of worry instead of a full anxiety episode. But it’s still strong enough to prevent him from wanting to look at Phil while he’s waiting for an answer.

Phil takes his time. “I don’t know,” he concludes. It’s soft and quiet in the night.

“You stopped calling.” Dan leaps directly into the thoughts he’s been avoiding to dwell on, not being careful to make it not sound like an accusation.

“I texted you,” Phil says. “Many times, I can show you if you want. You took, like, days to text back. And sometimes you didn’t at all. I mean,” he pauses. “I thought...maybe you were busy or something.”

Dan takes all the words in without resistance. He knows he messed up. There’s not much he can say in his defense. He doesn’t think that Phil will understand if he tries to explain himself. He spent almost four months taking himself from his dorm to his class, trying really hard to join his roommates when they invited him to go out, but he felt unnatural, like a statue in a garden that’s buzzing with human activity and he’s in the centre watching them all enjoy themselves. By the end of the semester he could barely leave his bedroom door. It’s a miracle he passed all his classes since all he remembers is crying over books, words blurring while he tried to avoid staining them with tears.

Phil won’t understand if he says _you should have kept texting so I could have known you cared about me. You should have kept calling until I found the strength to make my brain connect to my hand and pick up_.

It’s hard to breathe. His chest aches, his eyes sting, and he knows what’s happening, but it’s like he can’t bother doing anything about it. It’s like he’s watching himself going through it instead of participating. He tries to drink a little, to challenge himself to move and not become locked inside his body. The taste does something to him, it puts him back inside his body, and it’s somehow worse, because it makes him feel it all. He shivers and he can’t stop the tears. He hopes Phil doesn’t notice because he can’t handle the attention that comes with him acting this way. Unfortunately, his sniffle isn’t discrete enough.

“Dan?” Phil asks, sounding unsure and maybe a little surprised. “Are you crying?”

Dan rests his temple on his hand, attempting but failing to hide his face. “No,” he says, his voice breaking on the word.

Phil is right there, and Dan’s glass slips effortlessly from his fingers as Phil takes it away. Phil is kneeling in front of him, his hands moving delicately on Dan’s thighs. He’s asking what’s wrong, and Dan wants to say _Everything. Nothing is right and it feels like it will never be_. Phil gives up on asking and tries his best to bring Dan inside and up to his bedroom.

Dan takes off his jeans slowly, feelings of exhaustion and tension fighting each other. He lies on the edge of the bed, and Phil joins him by crawling on it from the foot of the bed. Dan has his back towards Phil and they both lie there while Dan calms down a little. He’s not crying anymore and his chest can finally expand freely.

“Phil,” he speaks up with a small voice. “Remember when we had sleepovers and you’d stroke my hair?”

“Yeah,” comes Phil’s voice from behind. Dan can hear a little smile in it. “I loved it. Especially when you didn’t straighten it. I loved twirling your curls with my finger.”

“It always put me to sleep.”

Phil exhales a soft laugh. “It put _me_ to sleep. I always woke up with my hand on your head.”

Dan can’t remember when they last slept in the same bed like this. The older they grew the less frequently it happened. Phil’s mum always set up the guest room for him, but sometimes they would lie in bed chatting and end up accidentally falling asleep. Dan admits that maybe it wasn’t always completely accidental, at least on his part. Sleeping with Phil was better than sleeping alone, even when they both started growing taller and their long limbs needed space to spread.

“Would you do it now?” he asks, insecure. “Even though it’s not curly?”

There’s a hand on his hair, and Dan feels a pleasant tingly feeling on his scalp and down his back. His eyes close automatically.

“I’ll make do.”

-

He feels warm and a little sweaty when he wakes up. They left the window closed and didn’t draw the curtain so the sunlight is heating the room. Dan’s back is against Phil’s chest, and his own chest has Phil’s arm draped over it. It’s like Phil pulled him close during the night as if he were a teddy bear. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t enjoying it, even if he feels a bit hot in Phil’s embrace. He closes his eyes and tries not to breathe too deeply, savouring every moment he’s here in comfortable solitude.

-

He spends all day at Phil’s. Dan’s mum often sleeps more on the weekends to recover from her sleep deficit when she works at night. Dan usually has to be quiet not to wake her up, and being out of the house feels freeing. They go to the river again to swim after lunch when it gets too hot. They play video games in his room when they come back, and Phil convinces him to watch more Buffy, but Dan is distracted by Phil clearly texting instead of watching.

“Seriously,” he finally breaks, but tries to sound casual and unbothered. “Who are you texting?”

Phil looks at him and opens his mouth, but he closes it again. He types quickly and puts his phone down. “It’s that friend from uni, remember?”

Phil hasn’t said much for Dan to remember, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, I guess.”

“His name’s Ben, we take a few classes together. We hang out sometimes.”

Dan tries to hold his initial reaction back. It’s perfectly okay for Phil to have other friends. Just because Dan hasn’t managed to make any, it doesn't mean that Phil shouldn’t have any. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants. It’s just...rude to be paying attention to someone else when Dan’s right here. And to force him to watch something he didn’t even want to watch in the first place.

“Oh, okay,” he simply says even though he wants to strap Phil down and interrogate him until he’s satisfied. He bites his lip and tries to ignore the awful feeling that seems to overtake his body without his permission.

“Sorry, I know we’re hanging out. I’m being rude.”

“No,” Dan rushes to say. “It’s fine. It’s not like we’re doing anything, it’s okay.”

They keep watching and Dan sees Phil’s phone screen light up. Phil doesn’t touch his phone again, at least not until Dan leaves about an hour later, saying that he needs to spend some time with his mum. He doesn’t think he can appreciate Phil ignoring his other friend for his sake right now because he isn’t sure Phil truly wants to focus on him instead. Dan hates to be the reason someone isn’t talking to their friend. So, he leaves with an unpleasant feeling in his chest, even though he wants nothing more than to stay.

-

_Come over_

Dan pauses the video he was watching as the notification pops up.

_??  
its 11_

_Pls have you seen how clear the sky is?  
I wanna lie in the backyard and look at the stars  
Pls for old time’s sake?  
Help an old man relive his glory days  
I’ll set everything up like I always do  
Also i can’t sleep come join me_

Several texts later and Dan is biking to Phil’s house in his pyjama pants and the first t-shirt and hoodie he found. Their part of town is sparsely populated, houses comfortably spaced apart and surrounded by forest. And this late at night it’s unlikely that anyone is going to spot him. The hoodie is more something to pull over his head to make himself feel protected. He’s slightly suffocating under it and can’t wait to take it off.

Phil is already at the back, setting things up just like he said. Dan walks in on him sitting on a sleeping bag. There’s another one next to it. He smiles when he sees Dan and pats it down. Dan takes his hoodie off and drops it between them. It’s mostly dark apart from the solar garden lights close to the wooden fence, so they can barely see each other. But it doesn’t matter when they’re just lying down and looking up at the sky. There’s no obstruction apart from the roof of the house behind them, which they have to tilt their heads back to see, and the dark silhouettes of tall trees in front of them, so they can gaze at the bright white specks spreading across the inky surface.

“It’s so beautiful,” Dan hears Phil say beside him. “I miss this.”

“Bet you haven’t done this since last August.”

“Not with you.”

Dan didn’t expect his stomach to twist so violently at being reminded that apparently he’s not the only one Phil does these things with anymore.

“I’ve been here by myself a couple of times,” Phil continues. “Sorry I didn’t invite you.”

_Oh_. He hates that he misinterprets and has to question the meaning of Phil’s words now. He’s still reeling from the painful jealousy that made his heart sink when he hears rustling and crinkling and a gasp.

“You brought candy?” Phil says, excited.

Dan forgot that he stuffed some candy in the pocket of his hoodie before he left. “Hey!” He shifts to grab Phil’s enthusiastic hands. “They’re for both of us—no, n—Phil! Why are you like this!”

He tries to pry Phil’s fingers open to get the sour candy packet, but Phil’s being stubborn on purpose, he knows, and it fuels his own stubbornness to get his way. They’re practically arm wrestling each other, which is very awkward to do while lying down on their sides, but he won’t give up until he reclaims his candy.

The fight comes to an end when they both get their hands on it and tear it open, candy flying everywhere, into places neither of them can see. At least one piece hits Dan in the face and the rest land all over them. He looks at Phil with wide eyes, and, unsurprisingly, Phil giggles.

“Oh no,” he says between giggles, “we murdered it. We committed sugar crimes. We’re going to candy jail. Oh, there’s one,” he interrupts himself to put the found sour gummy in his mouth.

“You—” Dan starts. “Ugh, whatever.” He gives up and lies on his back.

“Sorry,” Phil attempts to apologize, but he’s still smiling.

“You’re sorry you didn’t get to eat them, you don’t give a shit about me.”

Phil shushes him. “Dan,” he says quietly as though he’s demonstrating the appropriate volume, “you’re being too loud.”

“Fuck off,” Dan whispers loudly.

Phil laughs. “I’m really sorry, though. Here, I found another one,” he says and touches it to Dan’s lips.

Dan sputters and turns to face Phil, appalled. “Phil! That was on the ground!”

“No, it was on my pants.”

“Ah, that’s better,” he says sarcastically.

Phil just laughs again, delighted, and Dan can’t stop himself from smiling too. He feels happy. Euphoric. A little giddy. He looks into Phil’s dark eyes. He’d never guess they’re blue if he didn’t already know it. Phil bites his lip, and Dan mirrors him without thinking. His breath becomes shallower, his ribs retract too soon, pushing his lungs down. He could lean in, he realizes. He could simply lean in—

He feels a drop land directly on his eyelid, and he blinks. “The fuck?” he exclaims. “Did you spit on me?”

“Is it raining?” Phil asks instead of replying. He sits up and tilts his face up. “Yup,” he answers his own question.

Dan can feel more raindrops land on his bare arms and exposed neck while he sits up as well. “What the hell, it was so clear just a minute ago.”

It starts to properly rain right when the words leave his mouth, as if the sky wants to prove Dan wrong. He shrieks and stands up, pulling his sleeping bag from the grass over his head. “My fucking hair!”

“Get inside!” Phil yells, and Dan can hear the implicit laugh in his tone.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

-

“Dan, you look fine,” Phil tries to reassure him when they’re in his room. He passes Dan a towel before drying his own arms off with his own towel. “No one’s gonna see you anyway.”

“You see me.”

“I’ve seen you before.”

Dan whines softly. “I just hate it when it goes frizzy.”

Phil comes close enough to rake his fingers through Dan’s damp, curling hair. “I love it.”

Dan feels tingly, and he’s not sure if it’s from the sensation of Phil’s touch or from hearing the words.

“What do you want to change into?” Phil says, and his hand is gone.

“Oh shit, where’s my hoodie?” Dan suddenly realizes.

“I picked it up while you were worrying about your hair,” Phil smiles. “It’s muddy, I put it with the dirty laundry.”

“Oh good, thanks. Uh, just a t-shirt I guess? I can stay in my boxers.”

It’s too late to do anything that would risk waking Phil’s parents up, so they lie on Phil’s bed, both in t-shirts and their underwear, with Phil taking the side close to the wall as he usually does. They share earphones and watch videos on Phil’s laptop until they get bored and turn it off to lie down properly.

The rain taps on the window across the room. They have the bedside lamp on, and it shines directly on the part of Phil’s face that’s not shaded by Dan’s head, making it glow in the warm, soft light. They’re lying on the same pillow, and Phil’s face is so close that Dan can feel Phil’s faint breath from his parted lips on his own face.

He remembers what he was thinking of doing when they were lying outside. He feels nervous. He’s never really wanted to kiss anyone like this. There were a couple of boys he met at uni that he thought were attractive, but it was always them trying to kiss him, and Dan didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he got too nervous to let them.

But this...this isn’t like those times. He can tell it’s not the same unpleasant feeling he got when someone else’s face came closer to his and he instinctively moved away to avoid their touch. It’s the same nervousness he gets when he really wants something but it’s new and unfamiliar and often scary because he doesn’t know what to expect.

But this is Phil. The person he’s known all his life, the friend he sat next to in every class and hung out with every day after school and on the weekends. The kid who told Dan’s mum that he was the one who accidentally broke her potted plant when they were ten so Dan wouldn’t be in trouble. The boy who stole a classmate’s homework and triumphantly tore into pieces before he threw it in the river after school because he called Dan a mean word in class.

There’s a photo in an album somewhere of a few people sitting in the Lesters’ living room. Phil’s mum is in it with newborn baby Phil in her arms and Dan’s mum next to her with a visible baby bump. Dan is still fascinated by that photo, that early evidence of how they were destined to be as close as they are even before they both existed independently in this world.

He looks up, and Phil’s directly staring into his eyes. It makes him feel...things. He feels warm, a bit restless, but also grounded at the same time. Like he wants to run, but run directly into Phil. He feels impulsive, but there’s safety in that impulsivity. He’s confident that if he carelessly trips and falls, Phil will catch him. He finds Phil’s hand between their bodies and holds on to it, Phil’s fingers wrapping around his like he knows exactly how much pressure to apply.

He missed him. He missed him so much. His presence, his words, his random thoughts, his fierce protectiveness, his hugs and smiles and understanding looks. Not talking to him was torture, and, now that he has him again, he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to tell him, and the feelings rise from inside his chest, but when they reach his mouth he can’t name them. And a touch can say so much more when there are no words. Dan has so much to say, it would be easier to just merge with Phil.

He leans in and touches his lips to Phil’s, softly but confidently. He feels a light squeeze on his hand, and Phil is kissing him back. It lasts for a few seconds, and it takes his breath away, not so much the sensation, but the fact that Phil is so eager to reciprocate. They part, and he can’t hold it in; he breathes out and giggles.

“What?” Phil says, but he’s smiling and he looks pleased.

Dan closes his eyes as if he’s trying to concentrate. “I just can’t believe I did that.”

“Oh,” Phil says, and Dan thinks he sounds disappointed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” Dan rushes to say, “I wanted it. I liked it. I just can’t believe that I did it. I’m like, surprised at myself.”

“Yeah, I’m a little surprised at you, too.”

“You are?”

Phil hums.

“Why?”

Phil shrugs one shoulder. “I guess, you were never interested in that kind of stuff? Like, I don’t ever remember you wanting to kiss anyone? Remember that girl at my birthday party who kissed you when we were what? Thirteen?”

Dan makes a face at the memory of letting said girl give him a chaste kiss on the mouth as a dare. It didn’t feel bad, but it wasn’t pleasant.

“Exactly,” says Phil at Dan’s expression. “I thought it was because you don’t like girls, but you don’t seem to have strong feelings for boys either?”

Dan doesn’t know what to say. He’s pretty sure he likes boys, just—he seems to remember that only when another boy shows interest in him, and his brain goes _oh right_. But it hasn’t ever gone further than that. They just move too quickly for his liking.

He’s known that Phil likes boys since Phil realized that himself. He hadn’t really thought about liking anyone until Phil brought it up and Dan had to question and self-reflect. He’s sure he likes boys because he has gotten crushes, and he does find some attractive, but—he just can’t bring himself to follow through. He knows how he’s supposed to feel based on Phil’s statements and honestly, the world’s expectations. And Dan feels...something. It’s too confusing and sometimes painful to think about.

“No, I like boys,” he says, suddenly wanting to reassure Phil for some reason.

“Yeah, I got that,” he smiles. “I’m sure you had some experiences in uni,” he adds.

Dan is speechless again. He didn’t have any experiences in uni. None of the sort that Phil is implying. He’s feeling himself become insecure, worried that Phil can tell exactly how inexperienced and new to this he is, but Phil didn’t say anything bad about their kiss. He’s just looking at him, his eyes moving slowly from his eyes to his lips, his fingers idly caressing the back of Dan’s hand. Even someone like Dan knows what that means.

He leans in again and they kiss for a while, until he feels Phil’s tongue on his bottom lip. He makes a little sound of surprise and parts his lips to see what will happen. Hoping that something will happen. Phil’s tongue meets his, and Dan tenses up and then melts. He needs something more than just having his hand held to deal with how overwhelming this feeling is.

He removes his hand from Phil’s hold and grabs his exposed arm, his fingers digging lightly into the warm flesh. Phil’s hand wraps around Dan’s middle and settles on the small of his back, pulling him closer. Then it’s moving again, over his hip bone, his thumb touching the skin close to his belly button. Dan squirms again, at this point it’s impossible to stay still even if he tries. Something in him erupts with tingly warmth, and he squeezes Phil’s arm harder.

Phil breaks their kiss. “You’re shaking,” he says quietly.

“Touch me,” Dan responds without thinking. He’s feeling too much, needs with such intensity that he can’t sit and think about it.

Phil pauses, his eyes wandering over Dan’s face, as if the answer to his question is written on Dan’s features. “Touch you?” he asks, finally. “Like, you mean—”

Dan puts his hand on Phil’s, still resting on his belly, and pushes it lower, feeling incredibly brave and full of nervous excitement.

“Oh,” Phil says, realizing. “You want that?”

Dan nods. “Please. If you want,” he adds because he would hate to make Phil do something like that if he didn’t want to.

Phil touches him gently over his boxers, and Dan makes a little noise and drags his feet against the sheets.

“Is this okay?”

Dan closes his eyes and nods again, unable to speak. “You can actually touch me,” he says when he finds his voice. He’s afraid he’ll die from the sensation if Phil does what he tells him, but the desire is so strong, defying death is worth it. He feels Phil’s hand move, and his fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers. He gasps and opens his eyes when Phil’s hand touches his skin. It’s like he’s hit with electricity, and he moves his hips involuntarily to escape from it.

“Should I stop?” Phil says uncertainly.

“No, no, it’s just—it feels so different with someone else’s hand.”

“It does,” Phil says, nodding slightly against the pillow.

Dan feels too much in this moment to think or question Phil’s statement, so he squeezes his arm and encourages him to continue. He loses himself in how strangely pleasant it feels, how good the sensation of Phil’s hand on him is, how his heart stutters along with his breath. He dares to look Phil in the eye and he’s there watching him, biting his lip, and letting it go to smile at him. And then Phil is kissing him again, slow and deep and uncoordinated. Dan feels the pleasure building inside him until it reaches a peak that leaves him breathless.

He takes a breath again when Phil’s mouth leaves his. He rolls on his back, and Phil’s hand slips from his boxers. He lies there for a few moments, deep satisfaction reverberating through his entire body. When he turns his head Phil is there looking at him again, and Dan feels incredibly shy.

“Hey,” he says, just to say something, because the silence is too much, and Phil’s eyes are too bright and too careful.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You okay?”

Dan finds himself smiling. His body is sinking into the mattress and his eyelids are heavy. “Yeah,” he reassures Phil. “Yeah, God, it was—I don’t even have words right now.”

“But if you did they’d be good words?”

“Yes,” he says, feeling more awake at hearing Phil’s tone. “Why? Are you okay?” he adds, feeling a bit insecure.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry, I just want to make sure you’re okay. But yeah, I’m great.”

Dan turns on his side again, facing Phil.

“What is it?” Phil asks after Dan doesn’t say anything.

Dan feels himself blush and he feels stupid considering what they just did.

“Can I do you?” he says and he feels a sharp bite of excitement in his stomach at the possibility of following through with his request.

Phil buries his face in the pillow and groans.

“No?” says Dan, and the bitter feeling of rejection starts rearing its head as he prepares himself for it.

“No, I mean—” He reveals his face again. “Yes, if you want.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to, Phil.”

“Good, because I think I’ll die if you don’t,” he says and flops on his back.

Dan contemplates if he should say something about how embarrassingly inexperienced he is or just keep it to himself, but he thinks Phil would want to know. And Dan can’t do this pretending that he knows what he’s doing. He sits up because he feels too vulnerable to have this conversation lying down.

“I’ve never done this before,” he blurts before he changes his mind.

Phil looks at him and then props himself on his elbows, probably catching on to Dan’s need for this talk. “Oh,” he says as if he was waiting for Dan to say more. “Really?” he asks.

Dan nods, feeling exposed and insecure.

“I mean, that’s perfectly okay, it’s just hard to believe. I thought you’d have guys hitting on you constantly.”

He thinks of all the boys that approached him at parties that his roommates managed to drag him to. He shrugs. “You overestimate my appeal,” he says instead.

Phil raises his eyebrow. “I’ve known you forever, if there’s anyone that gets your appeal it’s me.”

Dan doesn’t know what to make of that statement. Doesn’t know how much stock to put in the implication behind the words, and if he should. He desperately wants to ask what his appeal is, aside from Phil probably thinking he’s attractive. He shifts to get away from the weird way those words make his insides feel.

“But it’s okay,” Phil continues. “We don’t have to.”

“No, you fool,” Dan says, softly exasperated. “I just want you to know that if I suck, that’s why.”

Phil laughs and visibly relaxes. “You won’t suck.”

“Well, I hope so, but I don’t know. I just—will you show me?”

“Of course,” Phil says easily.

He lies back down and reaches for Dan. He goes to him just as easily.

-

The next few weeks remind Dan of every other summer he spent growing up in this town. He meets up with Phil every day, and they follow a familiar routine of playing video games, raiding the kitchen for snacks, and frolicking around outside when their rooms get too boring or stuffy. With the addition of intimate touches over or under clothes when they can be safely alone. Dan sleeps over at Phil’s house every few nights, and most of them are spent shushing each other and giggling quietly on too-hot sheets.

Dan is the happiest he’s ever been. He can feel it with all his senses, with his entire body and soul. Phil is warm and bright like sunshine, and Dan barely remembers why he couldn’t get out of bed when it rained. Maybe uni was so bad because Phil wasn’t there. He knows that Phil can’t literally be there, but maybe he can survive and reach the end knowing that what happened won’t happen next year. He doesn’t think he could go through it again.

-

“Ugh, I can’t believe we have to go back so soon,” Phil almost whines, throwing his controller beside him.

Dan holds on to his, ready to go again. “It’s like, a month away. Another?” he asks impatiently as the footage of Princess Peach crossing the finish line first replays on the screen.

Phil makes a displeased sound. “Haven’t you humiliated me enough? You won’t feel sorry for me enough to let me win even once.”

“You want me to let you win?”

“I don’t care,” he whines and slumps down the bed until his feet touch the floor. “In a month I have to go back to homework and going to class and all that bullshit.”

“And I have to go back to celibate life,” Dan tries to joke.

Phil laughs. “Dan, you’re really attractive. I don’t know how you haven’t found anyone to have sex with before me, but I’m sure you will. You just need some confidence.”

Dan instantly regrets making the joke. He’s terrible at making sex jokes, and of course Phil would interpret it this way. He should know better by now. But it’s still hurtful to hear him not get it. Dan doesn’t want some guy he doesn’t love to fuck him. If he ever has sex again, he wants it to be Phil making love to him. He feels childish and ridiculous phrasing it like that, and he knows Phil would roll his eyes at the choice of words, but that is genuinely how he feels. Touching Phil is his way of expressing his love for him when no other words or actions can express that sentiment. Letting Phil touch him is an act of giving himself, showing him what he means to him, how safe he feels, because being touched like that is equal to baring his soul to him.

He knows Phil doesn’t see it the same way he does, and that doesn’t bother him that much because he knows he’s still loved and wanted. It’s been cemented by years of trust and friendship. But he can’t explain that to him. He can’t even try because he doesn’t think he can make Phil understand. Phil’s statements make him feel wrong for being this way. “That’s not the issue,” he says, unsure of whether he has the energy or ability to handle this conversation.

“What’s the issue?”

He can clearly hear Phil’s interest in his voice. “Nothing,” he decides. “I’m being dramatic, I guess. Come on,” he says quickly and pokes Phil’s thigh with his toes. “Another round?”

-

Dan’s staying over for the night again after dinner with Phil’s parents. He’s not surprised his mum hasn’t complained that she hasn’t seen him as much these past few weeks. Her work schedule is unpredictable and it’s just the two of them, so she’s always been lenient on him about spending so much time with another family. Even so, Dan doesn’t want to mention it to her in case she decides to force family time on him. He’s having too much fun with this family.

He’s definitely grateful for it as he’s lying naked on Phil’s bed with Phil hovering above him. The door is locked and the window open, and it’s so quiet Dan worries that the sound of his breath and the rustling of sheets are loud enough to be heard by everyone who isn’t them. He knows he’s just being paranoid, but Phil has been trying to get him to finish for what seems like a long time, and Dan’s body won’t listen, so his mind is drifting.

It isn’t the first time this has happened, but it’s never taken so long before. He’s starting to feel frustrated at himself and embarrassed that he’s unable to do this thing that seems to happen so easily for Phil. And he’s worried that Phil will think that he’s doing a bad job when Dan’s certain he’s the one doing something wrong.

“Dan? Hey.” Phil’s voice sounds soft and quiet, like he doesn’t want to startle him.

Dan realizes he had been keeping his eyes closed and holding his breath in his throat, as if he were underwater. He takes a deep breath and sees his chest rise. “Yeah?”

Phil puts one hand on Dan’s side, fingers spreading over his ribs, applying soft pressure. “Want to stop?”

Dan still doesn’t know how Phil can tell when he’s not there with his whole body and mind. It makes him feel exposed, and he wants to curl into a little ball and cover himself. He looks down at his chest and Phil’s hand on it, at his legs and at Phil who’s kneeling between them. It still feels strange how he can lie there, naked in front of his friend, and feel like it takes everything out of him to be seen this way, but also like it’s not a big deal. He doesn’t know if it’s him finally being brave or if it’s Phil making him feel this way. He’s sure that he doesn’t want to stop. He just doesn’t know how to continue.

“No, I just—” he begins to say but stumbles over his words. “I need help.” It unintentionally sounds more serious than he means it, but these are the only words he can come up with to express his struggle.

“Okay,” Phil says, his hand moving over Dan’s chest and caressing his skin as if he’s trying to soothe some imaginary pain. “What’s the issue?”

Dan sighs, frustrated. “I don’t know. I can’t...finish again, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re trying too hard.”

Dan’s instinct is to argue, but Phil is right. He’s trying so hard he’s exhausted.

“Do you like how it feels?”

“Yes, I love it,” Dan answers immediately. “That’s why I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

“Maybe nothing is wrong. Just enjoy it, I have two hands, and I can keep going until you’re bored,” he laughs softly. “I won’t be offended if you tell me you had enough.”

Dan doesn’t know what to say to that. “I can try, I guess,” he says tentatively, feeling a bit selfish. “If you don’t mind.”

Phil leans in and kisses him. He moves his lips down Dan’s neck, just below his jawline, and Dan tilts his head back. Phil taking his time with him, paying attention to places that Dan never thought deserved any, makes him feel important, cared for, present. Phil continues trailing kisses down his chest, and Dan breathes deeply, loudly. When Phil leans back and his hand gets back to work between Dan’s legs, he expects to struggle through it again, but it feels different this time.

He notices that he’s able to feel more, and feel better, when he doesn’t expect anything from himself. Dan sighs and closes his eyes, this time to try and stay in the moment instead of letting himself slip somewhere else. Putting his hands on Phil’s thighs and feeling the fine hair and warm skin on his fingertips and palms helps keep him connected. Phil’s free hand caressing his inner thigh and tummy makes sure to keep him there. It feels so good that he lets out a little laugh.

He opens his eyes and looks at Phil’s face and then at his hand on him, and up at his face again. Their eyes meet, and Phil gives him a little smile, as if to say _I’m glad it’s you_ , and Dan is hit by the thought that he’s known and loved this boy since he came into this world. He’s overcome with something so deep that it takes his breath away. The pressure that’s building in him rises so suddenly that he has no time to even think about what’s happening until it is. His body tenses, and a soft gasp escapes through his lips. He writhes helplessly, barely registering that his nails are digging into Phil’s flesh like an anchor sunk into the bottom of the sea. He lets out a high-pitched whine that he’ll probably judge as embarrassing later, but right now he doesn’t have the brain to care.

He lies there after it’s over, feeling like he just fought his way through a stormy ocean, trying to breathe and collect himself. He’s so dazed that he almost forgets that Phil is there too, but Phil reminds him when he leans in for a kiss. Dan wraps himself around him the moment their chests meet and holds him tightly.

“You okay?” Phil asks, trying to sound lighthearted.

Dan can tell he needs to be reassured, but he doesn’t have the words right now. He nods against Phil’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says and shifts a bit to get more comfortable, but never stops clinging to him. “I just need this right now.”

Phil squeezes him lightly, a non-verbal confirmation that he’ll do whatever Dan needs. He feels like he should be crying, but he’s just overwhelmed with joy. When the intensity of the emotion subsides, all that’s left in him is fatigue. He’s barely conscious when he feels Phil shift and rearrange them so he’s spooning him. He drifts soon after.

-

The Lester kitchen is busy with three people preparing dinner. Phil’s dad had been there at some point too, but he got banished to set the table since he was mostly stealing bites here and there. Dan is on vegetable chopping duty, as usual.

Phil is for once not complaining about how he’s technically on holiday, but Dan knows that it’s because he doesn’t dare outright complain to his mum and risk getting eviscerated by her sharp wit. He does make an exception though when he opens the fridge and finds the red velvet cake she made.

“How come you don’t make me my favourite cake?” he says with a pout when Kathryn says she made it because it’s Dan’s favourite.

“I actually did,” she quips. “Perhaps if you had stayed for more than three days last Christmas you would have seen for yourself.”

The words hit Dan like the cold chill of the water when he dives into the river. His breath gets caught in his throat. Phil came home. He was home, here, while Dan was home. And he didn’t say a word. He grips the knife to bring his numb arm back to life, but he finds it extremely difficult to use and he does a terrible job cutting. He gives up and closes his eyes because he can’t stop the sudden explosion of emotion in his chest. All he wants is to use the knife on his own skin, give an opening to the suffocating feeling and expel it from his body.

He excuses himself to the bathroom and avoids looking at Phil. He comes downstairs eventually, determined to get through this dinner. He thinks he does a pretty good job acting as if he didn’t just spend ten minutes throwing ice-cold water in his face to distract himself from doing anything drastic. He does his best not to look at Phil, mostly interacting with his parents, and acts delighted and grateful when he is offered a piece of his favourite kind of cake. And he is truly grateful, he just struggles feeling it right now, so he has to exaggerate to get the message across.

His torture doesn’t end after that. Kathryn insists that he stay for a while since his mum is still at work because she hates thinking of him sitting at home by himself. He follows Phil to his bedroom, unsure of how he’ll be able to exist in the room with him without anyone between them.

“Wanna play something?” Phil offers after a minute of sitting in awkward silence.

Dan shakes his head, not looking at him.

“Watch something?” Phil tries again. His voice is hesitant, careful.

All it tells Dan is that Phil knows something is wrong. Almost like an admission of guilt.

“Anything else you want to do?”

“What I want—” Dan starts suddenly, and he feels already out of breath. He’s hit with how angry and hurt he is. It’s impossible to restrain himself. “What I want is to know why the fuck you didn’t tell me you came home for Christmas.”

It’s not a question; it’s a clear demand, and Phil flinches at Dan’s tone. Dan’s not sure what he looks like, but he feels furious and his entire body and face feel tense. It’s an awful feeling, and he despises the sensation, hates how out of control it makes him feel.

“I mean,” he ploughs ahead, fueled by all the words he didn’t get to say and the feelings he didn’t get to express. “It was already bad enough that I came home and expected to see you and finally talk to you and you didn’t even tell me you weren’t coming.” He stops to take a breath. “But now I find out that you really just didn’t want to see me. Okay. Okay,” he repeats uselessly. 

Phil looks properly guilty now. “I’m really sorry, Dan. I should have. We were barely speaking at that point and you didn’t—I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me.”

Dan has a million thoughts, all wanting to burst out of him at the same time.

Phil speaks up again. “You have no idea how awful I feel about it.”

“Great, that makes me feel so much better,” he says, and he’s sure he sounds sarcastic enough to hide how hurt he actually is. “Only three days?” he asks when Phil doesn’t respond. “What were you doing for the rest?”

Phil presses his lips together. “I went to Ben’s house.”

Dan doesn’t know if he wants to kick Phil or hurt himself for being so foolish, so incredibly stupid.

“Oh, great,” he says, trying really hard to sound sarcastic and not like his heart has dropped to his stomach. “I’m glad you have a new best friend to spend time with.”

“Dan,” Phil almost pleads, “it’s not like that.”

“What is it like, then?” He’s aware that his voice shakes a bit. “What's going on between you? What do you have with him that it was more important to go to his house than come to see your best fucking friend?” Dan doesn't want to ask or think about it, he doesn't want it to be true, but he has to rip the bandaid off. “Are you together?”

“No!” Phil objects immediately. “We’re just friends, Dan, I—” he pauses. “We hung out a lot, we messed around a bit, but we’re not together, I don’t want to be with him or anything like that. I mean, I like him, but I don’t like him like that.”

Dan feels like Phil just slapped him in the face. “So you're not together, and you had sex with him?”

Phil looks uncomfortable, and Dan is not sure exactly why—feeling like he’s in the middle of a sea storm doesn’t help him think about it right now.

“I mean, I guess, we didn’t do all that much.”

Dan pauses to think whether that should bother him. He hates that it does. He hates that he can intellectually understand that people can separate their feelings and actions but his heart won't accept it. He despises himself for not being normal like Phil, like the rest of the world. It feels so lonely. So painful.

He focuses on his own feelings because that's what matters right now, and it's the only thing he can try to make sense of. “I wish you told me about him,” he says, feeling his throat closing up. He attempts to keep his voice stable. “I wish you told me like, the first hundred times I asked you. Before I kissed you. Before I let you touch me.”

“Dan,” Phil starts saying and sounds unsure. “What I did with him is not really different from what we're doing.”

Dan looks at him in disbelief. “How can you say that? How can you compare us, what we're doing and who we are to each other, to you and him? It _is_ different, it's very fucking different.” He wipes the tears from his eyes before they can fall.

“How?” Phil dares to ask.

“Because I fucking love you,” Dan explodes. “It's different because every time I let you touch me I give myself to you. I'm not messing around, I'm completely serious.”

"Dan—"

“Do you love him?”

“No. I told you, it’s not like that.”

“Do you love me?” he asks, boldly wanting to challenge him, desperately wanting to hear him say it and mean it.

“Of course I love you, I've loved you since I can remember. You're my best friend. Unless you think—” He hesitates. “We are more than that?” he says carefully.

Dan's stomach is in knots, and it feels so painfully tight. He's vibrating so violently that he feels tremors going through his body.

"Dan—"

"I don't think that," he interrupts. It’s a lie, an obvious lie, he’s sure, and he doesn’t know why he says it. He just knows he can't tolerate Phil pitying him, feeling sorry for his idiotic feelings and how easily he let himself feel more than he’s allowed to feel.

“Dan—” Phil sighs loudly. “I'm really sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't think it was relevant to you because we're not, like, together. And I'm sorry to say this, it’ll probably sound really bad because I know you’re upset, but—I don't understand why you're upset.”

Dan is at his breaking point. He thinks he has broken into enough pieces already, but they keep being ground into sand. His head is pounding, and he feels like he might collapse. He stands, though he’s barely able to hold himself up. His chin quivers, and his vision is blurry. He doesn't know what else to say, so he says the first mildly cruel words that come to his head.

“You never understand. You probably never will.”

-

His pillow has wet patches on both sides by the time he stops shaking with choked sobs. His mum is in the next room sleeping and all he wants to do is wail and scream, but he can’t. He silences himself with his fist over his mouth and bites down on his knuckles as if to transfer some of the horrific pain from one wounded body part to another. A part that makes the wound visible and possible to tend to. He can’t mend something he can’t hold in his hands. He takes the pillow from under his neck and throws it on the floor, as if that will do anything to make him feel better.

He's not mad at Phil, no matter how badly he wants to direct all his grief and desperation at him. He's angry at himself, at his stupid brain and his body, and this feeling that overtakes him when he thinks of his friend. He hates how Phil seems to trigger something in him that others don't, that others might never do. He doesn't understand it, and it makes him feel broken and desperate. Phil doesn't want him like Dan wants Phil. To Phil, Dan is no different than a stranger Phil met, who’s probably better since Phil prefers him over the boy who waited for him to come home. That stranger probably has something that Dan doesn't, gives Phil something he can't.

But Dan did give. He gave all of himself, and apparently it’s not enough. What is he supposed to do with that knowledge? How is he supposed to go through life when he already thinks he’s not good enough and that his one redeeming quality is the ability to open up his heart to someone he loves? Anyone he dares to love will walk all over him, and that terrifies him. The way he loves Phil makes him ache, but it’s worlds away from the panic of being desired by people he doesn't want touching him.

He let himself believe. He let himself be fooled. And he has no one to blame but himself.  
He feels so unbearably betrayed, and it's suffocating because he has no right to be. Phil didn't promise him anything, Phil doesn't belong to him. Phil's correct to think that Dan has no right to be upset because it's true. It's so painfully true. He wants to retract inside himself, let the heaviness seep into the mattress and slip through the cracks in the floor, but it feels like the floor is a giant magnet pulling him in, tugging on his bones. He wishes he could get rid of this crushing pain, but there's nowhere for it to go. It rots inside him and makes him feel sick.

He should stop. He and Phil should stop. He can't bear letting himself be touched knowing it won't last. Knowing it won't lead to anything more. He can't be that guy Phil just touches when he comes home only to go back to someone he might eventually love _like that_ and never look at Dan again. They’ll be separating again at the end of August, and Dan’s not going to see him for several months anyway. He should save whatever is left of his heart before it shutters completely. He can't be touched like that anymore and never be loved for it. Not when he—

His jaw trembles, and he tenses it.

Not when he completely loves Phil. _Like that_.

He feels his eyes sting again, and he wonders how it's possible to still have this much grief and sadness left in him.

-

“Dan?”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even open his eyes when his mum puts her hand on his arm to wake him up. He barely feels it. She keeps going on about it being late like she usually does, and he takes none of it in. He hums to show her he’s not dead and hopes he sounds annoyed enough to make her go away. He thinks he succeeds because she’s not there anymore.

She comes back later saying something about him coming down for dinner.

“Not hungry,” he mumbles.

“My love” she says, placing her hand on his forehead. “Are you sick? You need to eat something.”

“Just wanna sleep.”

Her hand is replaced by her lips. “I’ll bring you a plate.”

He’s asleep before she returns.

-

His phone buzzes. He doesn't bother looking. He knows who it is. He puts it on silent the next time he grabs it to watch videos to just stare at and numb his brain out. Phil has left him a few messages, but he swipes them away and keeps watching. He eventually falls asleep.

-

His mum is home. He doesn't know if it's her day off or if she cancelled her shift. He doesn't know what day it is. He doesn't check. She forces him to sit up and have some soup. It feels and tastes strange. He does it because she won't leave him alone and his stomach is painfully empty, as he realizes after the first spoonful. He can't finish it. He drifts again.

-

Phil is here. That's what his mum says. That's what Phil says when he suddenly shows up in Dan’s room. Dan doesn't respond to him. He couldn't even if wanted to. He's so tired. He’s only left his room to go to the bathroom. Phil's voice sounds like it's underwater. He probably leaves at some point because it's strangely quiet again. His heart reminds him that it still exists. It still beats. It still hurts. He brings his knees to his chest and goes under his blanket. Sleep won’t come tonight. His eyes close only to blink away the few tears that manage to escape before he wills himself to quiet down.

-

He'll probably spend the rest of his life on this bed. That's okay. There's nothing beyond this mattress or outside of this blanket. This is where the world stops. He can be okay with that.

-

His mum’s not okay with that. She comes into his room and Dan can tell she’s determined to drag him back to the outside world. She informs him that it’s been three days and he needs to shower and eat. He feels startled into conscious existence when the water hits his face. There are clean clothes on his bed, laid on top of clean sheets when he goes back to his room.

She guides him down the stairs, her hand persistent on his back like he doesn’t know where he’s supposed to be going. They eat together on the living room sofa, some game show playing on the TV. Neither of them cares. He tries to make himself swallow every bite like it’s not the hardest thing in the world right now, and she encourages him every time he puts his fork down for too long.

When more than half of his plate is empty he leans back and stares at the screen silently. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that he feels better. It’s only physical, and it feels wrong and unnatural when his heart is far behind compared to where the rest of his body is. And then his mum thinks it’s the right time to talk about it. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t like how his heart starts to stir and remember. There’s no escaping her questions; he’s too exhausted to try.

It’s too much. Something breaks in him, and he’s not ready for it, but he can’t stop himself. It frees the tears he held back during the last three days when all he did was shift back and forth between sleep and numbness. He can’t admit it to her, but he’s relieved when she scoops him into her arms and lets him feel small and vulnerable.

-

“How are you?”

Dan shrugs, not looking at Phil. He finally found a moment when his chest didn’t constrict every time he thought of him to message him and invite him over. They’re in his room, while his mum’s down in the living room. He told her enough for her to know that something happened between them. He also told her not to come into his room while they’re there, but he needs to know that someone else is close, just in case he has another breakdown.

They’re sitting on his bed. Dan is leaning against the headboard with his knees close to his chest. Phil’s back is against the wall, and Dan prefers it this way because they’re facing different directions and can avoid looking at each other. Dan has a bunch of plushies on the bed, and they bring him immense comfort. He hates feeling like he needs to protect himself from Phil, like he needs comfort to be in his presence, instead of Phil being the source of comfort.

Phil starts talking about his dad’s new project and how he’s making him help again. He laughs a little awkwardly, like he’s not sure what else to say.

He can’t do this. He sighs and dives straight in. “I guess I should have seen it.”

Phil straightens up, catching on to the shift of tone. “Seen what?”

“I’m always the one kissing you and—” He blinks, feeling a dull pain in his chest at the vivid images that flood his mind. “Initiating everything,” he continues vaguely, hoping Phil catches on.

Phil looks at him like he’s waiting for an explanation. “Yeah?” he says when Dan doesn’t elaborate. He sounds like something is obvious to him that is not to Dan. “Because I always let you initiate everything.”

Dan is confused. “What do you mean?”

“God, Dan. Do you know how many times I wanted to just grab you and kiss you? You know how hard it is to keep my hands to myself around you? Not just sexually, just—in every way.”

Dan doesn’t know what to say to Phil’s sudden confession. “Why didn’t you then?”

“Because—” He pauses. “We’ve talked about this before, but before you kissed me, before we, you know,” he says like he’s uncomfortable talking about it, “I wasn’t sure you were interested in that. I couldn’t just—I don’t know. I can't just try to touch someone when they're not giving me that message. So I always waited for you because I wasn’t sure you wanted it. I'm terrified of doing something wrong and losing you, I couldn't do anything that would risk that. Being friends with you is the most important thing in the world for me.”

Dan feels something tugging at his chest. It’s painful, but for the first time in many days, it’s not in a bad way. He’s so new to these feelings, but Phil knows him so well, even when Dan can’t figure himself out. It makes him feel warm, cherished. Phil’s behaviour makes so much sense and he feels stupid for misjudging his motives. “What about Ben?” he says, even though he knows it’s an abrupt change in topic.

“What about him?”

“You really don’t like him?”

“He's just a friend, like I said. I didn't lie about that. I don't want to be with him.”

Dan thinks about that. He also thinks about Phil saying that he’s no different than Ben. He sighs as he feels his heart starting to ache.

“Well it doesn’t matter,” he says, and the corners of his mouth twitch. He won’t cry. He just goes for it. “You don't want to be with me either anyway.”

Phil stares at him. “Be with you?”

It’s hard to speak. Dan nods. “Yeah,” he says and his voice is tiny. “If you haven’t realized how I feel about you by now, I don’t know what else to say.” His tummy twists uncomfortably as he waits for Phil to speak.

“Dan, I didn't know you felt this way. You never brought it up.”

“I didn't think I needed to. I love you. I let you see me naked and touch me.” He pretends to cough into his hand so he can bring his hand to his eye to quickly wipe away a tear. “I didn't think there was anything else to say. I thought it was clear enough.”

Phil doesn’t seem to notice the wetness in Dan’s eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t get that. You never told me you liked anyone so I assumed you'd never like me, not in that way.”

“Well,” says Dan. “I do.”

“Thank you for telling me. Because I can finally, _finally_ tell you that I do too.”

Dan’s stomach flutters. He reminds himself to hold back. “You’re not messing with me? Cause if you are, that’s not okay,” he says, mildly hurt. He feels like he has to prepare for heartbreak by breaking his own heart a little first.

Phil makes a frustrated noise, but it’s not directed at Dan. “Dan, God, do you know how over the moon I was when you kissed me that night? I've literally been in love with you since forever, I can't believe you didn't notice. I literally didn’t date anyone or do anything with anyone until this year because, I don’t know, it didn’t feel right.”

Dan huffs despite himself and rolls his eyes. “As if there’s anyone worthwhile to date in this town.”

Phil laughs a little. “Well, that’s how you see it. I don’t need to be in love for it to be worthwhile. I’ve actually kissed other boys from school.”

“Yeah,” Dan shrugs, “I know, you told me.”

“I didn’t tell you that those boys wanted more than kissing. And so did I. But I just couldn’t because—because I would have wanted to hide it from you I couldn’t have.”

“Like you hid Ben,” he states, ignoring that other piece of information for later.

“I didn't intentionally try to hide him, I just—I guess I convinced myself that it'd never happen with us. You're so beautiful and, just, fucking incredible, I had no doubt someone would snatch you right away. I guess I was saving myself some heartbreak. So stupid.” Phil lets out a frustrated sigh. “Even when we started, you know. I kept telling myself it didn't mean what I thought it did because it was too painful to hope. but—I don't know, I couldn't stop myself from hoping, I guess. I know it sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t,” Dan reassures him. “I understand. I’m sorry I went so hard with you about it.”

“I’m sorry I compared you to him. You’re absolutely not the same. I wasn't saying you're not important or what we did didn't matter because we're not in a relationship. I was just trying to understand where you stood. That's what I was trying to say. I'm sorry I'm so awful at words.

“You're wrong,” Dan says, finally feeling like he can breathe. “You're good with words. But you're even better at hugs. Come here.”

Dan opens his legs for Phil to fit in. He nestles his forehead where Dan’s neck meets his shoulder and they embrace tightly. Dan hears him sniffle and he realizes that Phil is crying.

“Phil?”

“I’m okay,” he says and takes a breath. “You've no idea how awful I felt after you left. I thought I had fucked up everything. It broke my heart to hear you talk about giving yourself to me and saying I'd never understand. To wait for you to reply, to see you like that in your bedroom. To have your mum ask me what was wrong and not knowing what to say. She was so worried. I thought I'd die from heartbreak.”

Dan strokes Phil’s hair soothingly, for his own comfort too. It hurts to hear what Dan went through summarized in a few sentences when it felt like an indefinite stretch of time. He also struggles with the knowledge that his own pain hurt someone else.

“You know how I was when you came to see me?” He’s not sure if he wants to talk about it, mostly because he doesn’t know how to talk about something that’s so deeply felt, but he trusts Phil to wait for him to find the words.

“Yeah. You didn’t even say anything. You just turned your back to me and ignored me.”

“I didn’t—I couldn’t say anything.” He stops. It’s already hard to speak. Thinking about it puts him back into that mindset and it scares him. “When I’m like this, I can’t do much. It’s like I can’t function, like my brain doesn’t work. Like I’m stuck. I can’t get out of bed, make myself eat, go to class, answer calls and texts.”

Phil raises his head and meets his eyes. His brow is furrowed, his eyes look sad and on the precipice of realizing what Dan is saying. “Is that—did that happen when you were in uni?”

Dan nods.

“Oh Dan,” he says and his voice drips with compassion.

Dan can’t take the look on his face and the softness of his voice. A sob escapes past his lips. He covers his eyes with one hand and cries into it.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, and even in this state, Dan melts at the word because he knows it’s just for him. “I’m so sorry, I messed up so badly. I’m such a huge idiot.” Phil holds him, like he’s done so many times before. “I won’t let you slip through my fingers again. I promise.”

-

“I wish you'd stay until I leave.”

They’re in front of Dan’s house, his things packed in his mum’s car, waiting for her to finish getting ready.

“You leave in two days,” Dan reminds him, his hands lightly squeezing Phil’s shoulders.

Phil squeezes back with his arms around Dan’s waist. “Two days without you, and then months. I’m going to wither away from missing you,” he pouts.

“Hey, that’s my thing, find your own,” Dan teases.

A regretful look appears on Phil’s face. He bites his lip. “Sorry.”

Dan kisses that look away from his face. Seeing it makes him feel bad for both of them. “You better show up for Christmas this time or I swear I'll come hunt you down and kick your ass,” he threatens.

“Mmm.” Phil smiles. “I love getting my ass kicked by my boyfriend, you're tempting me.”

“Phil, I swear—”

Phil's lips are on his again before he manages to spout more threats. It still makes his heart flutter that they’re allowed to do this. That it’s so easy, that he’s sure he wants it without having to think about it.

"I promise," he says quietly on Dan's mouth, leaning his forehead on Dan's. "Please promise me you'll pick up when I call. Even if all you do is cry, I prefer your tears to your silence."

"Crying a lot is one thing I can promise to do, don't worry."

Phil hugs him tightly. "You're not as funny as you think, but I still love you."

His mum comes out and they hug one last time, so tightly that it’s as though they’re trying to will themselves to merge into one body.

He turns around from the front seat to take a last look at Phil waving at him. How can he feel so full and as if something’s missing at the same time? He thinks about it until his phone buzzes and Phil’s name appears on the screen.

“What?” he says into the speaker with a wide smile.

“I miss you already, come back,” he whines.

Dan shakes his head and smiles. He leans his head back on his seat and relaxes, hearing Phil talk as he watches the trees fly past the window.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the @[phandomreversebang](https://phandomreversebang.tumblr.com/), based on the inspiring art and prompt by @[paradisobound](https://paradisobound.tumblr.com/). Thank you to my wonderful beta @[indistinct-echo](https://indistinct-echo.tumblr.com/), and to @[irrationalqueer](https://irrationalqueer.tumblr.com/) for cheering me on <3


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